


Written In The Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Greek and Roman Mythology, Homestuck, Irish Mythology
Genre: Multi, not shipping based, ships included though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A mythology AU that is very plot-driven. That which seems irrelevant adds up in the end.





	

Jake English, cold and sea-legged, looked out onto the stormy horizon. Clouds billowed across the sky, twisting together into looming giants, blocking out any rays of sunshine and pelting bullets of rain into jagged waves. His crew were exhausted and wary, tripping over their legs in a sluggish effort to collect water from the deck with pails, but the ocean was relentless. Jake furrowed his brow, shivering in the freezing air. “Captain English! We can’t keep doing this! It’s been three days!” A crewmate cried, looking close to sobbing. His legs gave into fatigue and he collapsed onto the deck, looking to the bow for any sort of consolation. Jake squared his jaw.

 

“You know what to do! Tie down everything on deck! We have to stick this out, as fellows of the sea!”

 

He looked out over the ocean again, making a sore attempt to steady himself amidst the violent rolling. He wiped sea-spray off of his glasses, backing away from the bow in horror. The water rose up, protruding from the rest of the lolling waves, which were already deck-height on average. Jake scrambled, slipping on the mottled wooden floor. “Faster, now! Everything tied!” He leapt onto the lower deck, making sure everything was securely fastened down. Crewmates fled to the cabins and clung to whatever they could. Jake took a rope and tied his ankle to a mast as tight as possible. He glanced up at the wave, shaking his head and shutting his eyes. “John, I’m sorry.”

 

Gushing water filled his ears. A thunderous clap shook his ribcage as the wall of ocean slapped against the deck. The ship dropped about three metres, and with it, his stomach. His lungs ached with the water that invaded them. His throat burned and his glasses were washed off his face. A screaming sailor was swept toward him, and he latched onto his arm, internally apologising to the one that was swept away. It was over as soon as it started, salt water flooding from the deck and merging back with the writhing beast beneath it. Jake did his best to clear the water from his chest. He coughed, his voice coarse with strain and salt. “Get up, men! Continue emergency measures!”

 

Few men stood to help Jake rid the ship of water, but they continued with newfound zeal. Jake took a pail and rushed into the orlop deck, collecting pail after pail of seawater. He sloshed through the churning flood, amidst floating crates and wood, freezing and dropping his pail with shaking hands. The sweetest of songs filled his ears, soothing his aching head but gripping his heart with fearful tendrils. He only registered his scream after his voice broke. He backed into the ladder, steps digging into his shoulder blades.

 

“Merpeople!”

 

He collected himself and rushed to the crew above. The few that weren’t swept away were sprawled across the deck, either mortified or expressionless. The waves racked the ship, but gentle singing drowned it out with just the quietest of volumes. “We’re all going to die,” a burly man whispered, slumped against a mast. One sailor leant over the rail.

 

“I don’t even care anymore, she’s just so beautifu-“

 

He was gone before he could finish his sentence. Jake looked on in terror, unconscious of his steps toward the bow.

 

“Captain, stop!”

 

Yes, stop. Jake tried, but he could no longer control his legs. Why feel the trauma of the waves when one could drown in a sound so soothing and sweet? His hands found themselves resting on the sodden wood of the bow, peering over the edge with tired eyes. The song continued.

 

Jake squinted, seeing without the aid of his glasses near impossible. A flash of vivid turquoise. A blur of pale blonde hair. His crewmate was right. They were beautiful. The merman surfaced once more, watching Jake watching it with a stoic expression. It extended its hand out to him, and before Jake could stop himself, he reached back.

 

He felt a dreamy sensation of falling, and then nothingness.

 

 

 

 

John Egbert, dishevelled and sleepy, rolled onto his back in a sprawled tangle of stale sheets and worn blankets. He brushed his dark hair from his face, a stark red mark present on the freckled skin of his cheek. He’d fallen asleep with his glasses on again. He’d broken them that way countless times before, and ended up with several small scars from being unable to leave the cuts they left alone. Sunlight streamed through his window and onto the wooden floor, reflecting off jars of baked goods and highlighting the layers of dust that nestled in the nooks and crannies of his bookcase. He yawned loudly, cracking his elbows as he stretched. He looked around his humble home. Just a small cottage, big enough for the bare necessities and little more, and that was all he needed. He’d lived alone since he was eight years old, though that wasn’t much of an oddity in the close-knit, seaside village he was raised in.

 

He stood, changing into his usual attire. His shorts were getting a bit too tight on him. It’d been a while since Jake visited, after all. He’d have to write and tell him to bring him more clothes. He grabbed an apple and took it out into the morn. He loved his village. Down the gravelled street, a man swept dirt from his store front. Two siblings fought over who could find the longest stick. He stretched in the doorway, looking out tiredly at the scene before him. An elderly woman made her way down the road from the town square. “Miss!” John called to her, taking the last bite of his apple. “Would you happen to know the time?”

 

The lady giggled at him. “You’re up earlier than usual, John! Why, the sundial read seven when I passed it. You’re growing very quickly, my boy! You’ll want to mention that to Mr English when he drops by, though, he can speak for ‘imself!”

 

John nodded, chuckling and tossing his apple into his garden. “I think he looks rather dashing,” he told her, imitating his caretaker’s peculiar vocabulary. He gave her a quick wave as he rushed back inside, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and pinning his cloak in place. The brown fabric was scratchy and new, but he figured it wouldn’t be that way for very long. He carded his fingers through his unruly tangles, dusted off his clothing and triple-checked to make sure his boots were laced. He had to be perfect. He exhaled loudly, excitement bubbling in his chest. After one last pat down, he strung his house key around his neck and took off down the road, up the hill and into the rows of cottages after the town square. He jogged to one particular residence, panting and grinning. The door was already open for him. “Rose, hurry up, I have to go soon!”

 

“Likewise, John. You have plenty of time.” The girl calmed him, taking a headband from the table and pushing back her short, pale hair. She smirked at him, giving him a once over, albeit a little more than once. “John Egbert, ready to go out and face the world with a satchel, inappropriate trousers and a dorky smile to match his rambunctious demeanour,” she teased. “Happy birthday, John.”

 

He rolled his eyes with a snicker. “You sound like you’re talking to a child. You only started training three years back, Lalonde.”

 

“Yes, well, that’s not where I’m headed today,” she told him, smoothing her magician’s cloak and tucking a few bread loaves into the oversized pockets. Magician’s cloaks were issued to witches and sorcerers of the like when they began apprenticeship. John rolled his eyes at how jealous he’d been at the attention Rose received, everyone asking about her trainer.

 

Rose pat down her straight locks. “Well, Egbert, I suppose I won’t be seeing you as often anymore.” Rose’s voice rarely revealed much of anything she was feeling, but the notion still sent John a pang of sadness.

 

“I’m going to write to you. I’ll only be gone weeks at a time as well. You’ve been gone longer than that,” he pointed out.

 

“Of course we’ll write. Don’t make it sound more dramatic than it is, John.”

 

He followed her out, watching her lock the door behind her. “If Jake drops by when I’m not here, see him for me, ‘kay? I told him to get you something, and he’s got to bring me-“

 

“Trousers.”

 

“Um, yes,” he laughed. “Bye Rose.”

 

“See you soon, Egbert,” she grinned, pecking his cheek and starting off down the road. John waved, journeying farther up the hill. His legs ached and he was nervous, but excitement fuelled him. A messenger boy sounded like quite a dull job, but he was excited nonetheless. To meet people, see new places and find new things was all he wanted to do. Eventually, he thought to himself, he could sail to other countries like Jake did.

 

The chateau’s pointed roof peeked over the hill. John beamed excitedly, running the rest of the way, trying to make his slips on the gravel as inconspicuous as possible. The man was waiting for him there. He was old and wore a monocle, and his moustache and hat were ridiculous. Nonetheless, John saluted him. “Sir? I’m John Egbert!”

 

“Yes, I have been waiting for you, young man.”

 

It sounded polite, but John still mentally berated himself. He’d tried to be early.

 

“Yes sir!” John squared his jaw, standing up straight. This was what he wanted. He couldn’t keep living in Jake and Rose’s shadows. The monocle man handed him his identification, which, instead of a badge liked John had hoped for, turned out to be a folded piece of parchment. He tucked it into his satchel anyway. The man nodded.

 

“Listen well, boy. No one will accompany you and you will not be reminded. There is a man who lives in Frost Forest in the Central Tower. You are to deliver this letter to him, and you are, under any circumstance, not to read it. Central Tower, Frost Forest,” he said sternly. John nodded.

 

“Yes sir!”

 

He saluted back. “You have three days to report back, understood?”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

The man turned on his heel, starting back towards the chateau. John waited until he was gone. “What the hell?!” He shouted to himself, kicking the gravel. The Frost Forest was the last place he wanted to go, especially with tiny shorts and a scratchy cloak! He allowed himself to groan before taking a deep breath and starting down the hill, each slide on the stones adding to his sour mood. If he wanted to travel and explore like Jake, he’d have to start out as a messenger boy.

 

 

 

 

Rose Lalonde, cold and determined, carefully made her way down the rocky stairs along the cliff-face. Below her, the sea roared loudly as it crashed against the jagged stone, exploding into droplets before grouping together to do it again. Her cloak billowed out behind her even as she reached the bottom.

 

The cliffs weren't a long way down from the village, but for whatever reason, no one had ever seen the island that protruded from the sea. Only Rose. The small wooden boat that awaited her at the bottom rocked dangerously in the waves, but Rose was not afraid. She had done this many times before. She took the oar in her hands and began the harsh rowing into the waves. Her arms were always tired and sore for the days betwixt the visits to the island, but what awaited Rose there was very important. The loaves of bread and medical kit beneath her cloak pressed into her uncomfortably, but she ignored it with steadfast determination, and found herself dragging her makeshift vessel up on the sands of her destination rather quickly despite the excruciating effort she took.

 

But he wasn't there. Nervousness wrapped its thorny tendrils around her insides. They both needed each other here.

 

"Dave?" She called, ignoring the unceremonious squawking from some unexplored area of the wood stretched out before the beach. Cautiously, she made her way up to the treeline and called again. "Dave, are you there?"

 

"Here," was the weak response from a small shrub. Rose knelt down next to it, taking out a loaf from her cloak and pushing it between the leaves in offering. It was accepted rather quickly. She grinned. "Sorry that it took me somewhat longer that usual. One of my friends had a very important day today. I think you'd like him."

 

Dave emerged from the shrub, looking worse for wear. Rose studied him. A siren. Though based on no factual basis, magikal or otherwise, Rose knew that his ilk was the reason the island had not been found. Though unsure, she could only hypothesise that it was her awareness that had allowed her to travel to this place. The wings that stretched from the pale boy’s shoulder blades were lacking in feathers in some areas and rather thin, suspicious blotches of red matted about. His arms, legs and face were dusted with scars and cuts from where the others had attacked him. Rose sighed. At times, she deeply regretted discovering the island. Had she not found Dave when they were small and taught him human customs, the other sirens may not have been so aggressive. Selfishly though, even imagining it made her miss him terribly. She brought the medical kit from her pouch and helped him clean himself up a bit. The clothes she’d made for him had once again gotten incredibly dirty, much to her chagrin, but they’d have to stay that way for now. She couldn’t stay long. She had things to prepare. Dave coughed. She looked up.

 

“Is something the matter?”

 

“You’re gonna do something weird.”

 

She laughed. She can’t be that transparent. “Yes, I suppose weird is a word for what I’m going to do. I’ll be back earlier than usual, in about two days, but for now, I must go. I’ll leave you these though,” she assured him, pushing bread and bandages into his arms, standing and brushing the dirt off her knees. “Be safe.”

 

She steeled herself during her ordeal back to the cliff face. She had work to do. Shoulders squared and jaw set, she tied the boat to the jagged rocks. Confidence was the key to dominance, especially with darker kinds.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first chapter v u v i'd love to know what you think! my friend and i were dicking around on skype and this idea came up and my brain birthed this


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